


Lost

by The_Saint



Category: Freakytits - Fandom, Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Flashbacks, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Saint/pseuds/The_Saint
Summary: Not all those who wander are lost, but what if you truly are lost then who comes looking for you?





	

**Author's Note:**

> First time one-shot, the idea actually woke me up and i had to document my scribbles before I forgot and/or fell back asleep and this is the end result!
> 
> Special thanks to Joansdiary for being on-call as my faithful creative consultant! 
> 
> Feedback, etc is always good so place remember to tip the waitress. Please overlook any spelling/grammar mistakes 
> 
> Italics = Flashback
> 
> Enjoy :) x

 

Her tousled salt and pepper hair and dark circles under her eyes, more prominent than usual was the tell tale signs of her eternal struggle of being unable to relax and surrender into a world of unconsciousness without the continuous torment of the demons waiting for her. The demons of past and present in a nightmarish setting, forced her into submission, forced to run to escape...runaway like a coward which had been the complete polar opposite to how she had been raised by her father, who instilled in her the need and importance of victory, to defeat her opponents be it in the fencing studio or in life.

 

Never show a hint of weakness, remorse or  _they_ would undoubtedly sense her hesitation and used it against her to defeat her.

 

Her demons plagued her on a regular basis and for the better part of her life even as a child, she suffered from nightmares but she soon learned to master control and as the decades rolled passed, Joan had perfected her mask, the impervious facade where no-one would suspect or dare to imagine that  _she_ suffered from nightmares rather that she was the cause of many other’s nightmares.

 

Joan sat up in her bed, hair cascading over her shoulders. In the darkness of night, she glanced at the unoccupied side of the queen sized bed which remained immaculately untouched; her heart sank heavily with disappointment. She reached out and smoothed the duvet, desperately trying to remember from memory the shape of the body which would otherwise occupy that side of the bed.

 

The sound of a creaking floorboard alerted Joan that she was no longer alone, instantly her attention turned to where the sound had come from, squinting at the bedroom door. A silhouette of Vera stood motionless as if afraid to enter the lion’s den, tentatively toed on the threshold of the bedroom, debating whether or not to enter their bedroom.

 

“Vera?” she whispered, her voice thick from sleep, “Come to bed.” She said, instructing and peeled back the crisp bed duvet, indicating for Vera to join her

* * *

 

 

Joan sat alone at the glass dining table. The condensation that had formed on the slim shot glass, trickled down and had began to form a small puddle on the wooden coaster as she stared vacantly down at the pasta dish which she had made the night before and had simply reheated the meal in the microwave, purely out of convenience.

 

As she stared down at the contents of the bowl, she come to realise that she was not particularly hungry, her appetite as of recently had disappeared but Joan forced herself to maintain her nightly routine after work and was loathed to deviate from this, even if it meant discarding the entire meal then so be it.

 

“If I had known that you’d be home later then I would’ve prepared something fresh for you...for the both of us.” Spoke Joan without looking up from her dinner, her stomach tightened suddenly feeling nauseated by the sight and smell of the pasta

 

Vera strode past Joan and the chair that she would normally sit at beside Joan and instead silently chose to sit at the opposite end of the empty glass table where she clasped her hands together then rested her chin upon her linked fingers, staring across the table at Joan.

 

Joan exhaled deeply through her nostrils, somewhat perplexed by Vera’s behaviour but whenever Joan brought the subject up, Vera would leave the room and therefore avoiding whatever was troubling her. Her jaw clenched tightly to the point it ached painfully but Joan welcomed the pain in order to keep her emotions in line and resisted saying something that she may later regret.

 

Vera remained annoying silent but continued to stare at Joan, her wide blue eyes were inescapable and with each passing second, Joan grew increasingly uncomfortable.

 

The fork clattered noisily against the bowl as Joan threw it down which shattered the awkward silence, she grew frustrated with herself...with Vera.

 

The tension was palpable between the two women although Joan remained at a complete loss as to what was troubling Vera that she acted like a perpetual child, avoiding Joan’s growing concern and refusal to even talk to her. She was purposely going out of her way to irritate Joan.

 

 

_In the beginning, it had not been easy for Joan to open up in general, let alone open up and share her home, welcoming someone into her inner sanctum which Vera felt honoured and smiled._

_THAT smile! The smile which was reserved for only her whilst she playfully twisted her grey streaked hair around her index finger then gentled pulled Joan down to her own height. Vera leaned forward, the warmth of her breath tickled her naked neck and created a small shiver, “Do you remember what you said to me on your first day when you started at Wentworth?” asked Vera_

 

_Joan contemplated her first day at Wentworth, darkening the doorway, her actions alone announced her presence, it was then that the inmates and staff knew that she was a force to be reckoned with. Joan leaned slightly into Vera, the steady warmth of her breath was comforting, “No, what did I say?”_

 

_Vera brushed her nose up against Joan’s neck, her lips caressed her earlobe. Joan closed her eyes in order to focus, to maintain control unsure if Vera knew the power that she held over Joan as her body, the long dormant feelings awoke from decades long slumber. Suddenly, it became incredibly warm and increasingly difficult to focus, “W-what did I say?” her voice hitched slightly higher than usual_

 

_“Well....we were in medical and you said, ‘Stick with me and we’ll achieve great things together.’”_

 

“Vera...you’re acting like a child, t-this is incredibly childish  _and_ petty!”

 

Her fingers raked through her grey streaked hair as if trying to make sense of what was or had happened between them. She glanced up at Vera, who nonchalantly inspected her manicure nails, the audacity of her casual and disregard enraged Joan like a red rag to a bull, “At least say something... _anything_ , for Christ’s sake,” she barked, “I cannot and will not stand for this...”

 

The sound of the bowl clattered from the table, smashing into pieces as the pasta splattered wetly against the varnished wooden floor which momentarily brought Joan back to the present time, back to reality with a similar crash of that of the broken bowl.

 

As quickly as her temper flared, the anger hastily overrode her normal iron clad control soon evaporated and left Joan dealing with the messy aftermath.

 

_Disciple your mind, control your emotions._

 

Joan’s eyes widened, convinced that her eyes were somehow deceiving her but the evidence of the chaos and mess was unmistakable and  _she_ had been single-handedly responsible for which caused her upper lip to curl and twitch subtly while her fingers tightened around the black napkin until her knuckles protested, a dull ache, trembling and where white with tension.

 

Vera’s eyes flickered between the ruined dinner and broken crockery which now decorated the floor and to Joan who was oddly calm until she noticed Joan’s white knuckle grip of the napkin, she was seething.

 

The sound of the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor distracted Joan from the mess which she needed to attend to immediately. Vera’s features remained unreadable, at one time; they seemed to fit perfectly like two pieces of a complex jigsaw puzzle but now Joan felt disconnected from Vera and how they were going to ever reconnect remained a mystery.

 

Vera rose from the chair and calmly departed, leaving Joan alone without so much as giving her a second glance. 

* * *

 

 

“How long, exactly do  _you_ plan on maintain this pretence?” asked Joan as she navigated the car through the traffic with ease however the frostiness within the car, between both Joan and Vera was another matter

 

The heavy tension and awkwardness had been brewing for some time, bearing the colossal burden as Joan continuously question herself, had she been responsible for the breakdown of their relationship? There was also the reality of admitting their relationship had failed and Joan Ferguson was anything but a failure!

 

 _It_ was nearing the pinnacle.

 

Throughout their relationship, there had been many a time of a disagreement, heated debate or an argument and it was usually Vera who would be the one to surrender and cave into Joan, be it an apology or to speak first then the situation would resolve itself however it would appear that Joan was served a dose of her own bitter medicine and she was finding it incredibly difficult to swallow.

 

But  _this_ was different,  _something_ did not feel right.

 

Vera seemed colder, uninterested and was completely unresponsive to Joan’s numerous attempts to reconcile but what irked Joan the most, what she could  _not_ stand or accept was the unbearable silence.

 

 

_In the beginning, Vera’s need to fill the comfortable silence whilst they watched television where they sat at opposite ends of the couch but subtly Vera would inch closer over towards Joan, drawn to her like a magnet then cuddle against her and more often than not would fall asleep._

 

_At the weekends, instead of the incessant need for the television, they both read. Vera typically reading a soppy, hopelessly romantic fictional novel which Joan could not find the appeal. Joan often read a lengthy, timeless classic such as War and Peace, Crime and Punishment or Lolita, the common element was that the authors were Russian._

 

_They alternated on who would cook dinner after work; their system worked perfectly and was fair but the idle and incessant need to fill the pleasant silence with conversation had once annoyed Joan but soon she grew to appreciate that Vera’s heart, her warm heart was in the right place and Joan was timidly opening up towards Vera and enjoyed her company._

 

_Their conversations would range, some more challenging and intellectual than others to easy going and topical regarding current events or the odd trading stories about themselves, equally turbulent and strict upbringing._

 

_As time went by, Joan had even grown particularly fond of hearing Vera’s humming usually as she carried out the most mundane of household tasks. It had taken her by surprise and she was reluctant to admit to it but Joan never could imagine what it was to be happy, to be content with life but here she and Vera were, making ‘this’ work. There were times when Joan found herself increasingly eager to return home especially after a stressful day filled with the incessant in-house bickering and politics between her staff and inmates who were forever testing her patience as if they were toddlers pushing the boundaries to see just how far they get away with mischief before being reprimanded or slotted._

 

_But, all that built up stress and tension practically melted away as soon as Joan stepped over the threshold of the front door and was greeted by the warmth, created by Vera, her mere presence had changed her house and Joan, and now it was difficult to imagine returning home and not finding Vera here, it felt....natural._

 

_Several candles were scattered throughout the lounge and dining area which created a more intimate setting and instantly help Joan to decompress and forget about her shift. The fresh aroma of Vera’s culinary expertise caused her stomach to growl impatiently, she spotted a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon which had been opened and allowed time to breathe._

 

_Joan leaned against the wall, Vera was completely unaware of Joan’s arrival. Her sense were overwhelmed, she had underestimated the impact that Vera would have in her life. Suddenly, her ears pricked at the sounds as Vera pottered around the kitchen adding the finishing touches to the freshly prepared dinner, all the while, she hummed to herself and Joan closed her eyes savouring this moment._

 

_She felt her heart swell with pride and happiness, against the inner torment of her father who still proclaimed that ‘Emotions lead to mistakes’ and ‘this would be undoubtedly her own undoing.’_

 

_For the first time that she cared to actually admit, Joan had found peace with herself and found her happiness._

 

_Now...._

 

Now, there was nothing but a crushing silence which seemed to grind her down, clinging onto happier memories was no longer enough. The warmth once shared between them appeared to be solely one sided as Joan adamantly tried to mimic what came so easily to Vera in order to rekindle the dwindling hope of a future for them.

 

Vera was able to be spontaneous and could leave things to the very last moment, on the other hand, Joan needed to carefully research, plan and rehearse which robbed  _that_ spark that Vera could naturally capture with ease.

 

Since things had changed, once Joan was eager and happy to arrive back home, share a meal with Vera then retreat to the leather couch where Vera would find her way over to Joan, distracting her from her book and make her lose her page as well as her train of thought. Limbs entangled, tightly embracing each other on the couch, each hungering greedily for the others touch and feel of their naked skin against each other  _now_ Joan dreaded entering her own home knowing that it had reverted back to a time before Vera where it was dark, a chill hung in the air which caused her to shiver but worst of all was the return of the loneliness. 

* * *

 

 

“This  _is_ tiresome,” she sighed, indicating to turn off into a junction and drove up a narrow road, “is that what you want, to hear me begging and pleading?”

 

Joan glanced out the corner of her eye, Vera lingering on the edge of her peripheral vision, her entire body had remained rigid and unyielding throughout the course of the lengthy journey and still she remained reluctant to turn and face Joan. Her features remained cold, reminding Joan of when Vera returned to work after the recent bereavement of her mother but often deep in Vera’s wide, doe like eyes, there was a miniscule glimmer which caused Joan’s heart to momentarily skip a beat.

 

Vera licked her dry lips and she sighed heavily, “We have to do this, you  _have_ to do this, Joan.”

 

Joan parked the car, turning the engine off but remained seated and with her seatbelt fastened, making no attempt to get out of the car. She had wanted to reach over towards Vera’s hand that was rested on her own lap but her fingers twitched in mid air, something prevented her from displaying affection and instead mimicked Vera, her hands rested on her lap also as she purposely delayed the inevitable.

 

She was conflicted, a part of her wanted to retreat, runaway and be damned of her father’s voice that was permanently etched in her mind. She  _could_ simply deny Vera, return back to home where it was safe, her inner sanctum and attempt to forget everything but if Joan were to do that then Vera would be restless and unrelenting to the point where she may begin to question her sanity.

 

Joan averted her eyes from Vera, realising that she was staring like a lost soul at Vera, for some unknown reason, Joan felt undeserving of Vera. After all, it had been Vera that had accepted Joan complete with flaws, faults but never had she tried to change her instead Vera gave Joan space, time and patience as if she were a gardener who was attending to their most prized possession, a delicate and preciously cultivated flower.

 

“W-what if I told you that...” Joan paused, it remained a painful task to try and articulate herself despite being an equally impressive and intimidating figure who commanded the respect of her staff and prisoners, at work with her Governor’s mask carefully in place and oozed confidence

 

Joan resisted the sensation of nausea which had been steadily increasing the closer she drove towards the intended destination, “I do not want to do.... _this!”_

 

“You  _can_ do this, Joan....after all we both know that you could  _never_  refuse me.” Replied Vera softly

 

Joan bit hard against the inside of her cheek, convinced that she had drawn blood, she needed the pain once again to distract her, to prevent the fragile dam of emotions from erupting, “V-v...Vera,” she shook her head gently, her throat constricted painful, “P-please....” she whispered and cringed, hearing her father’s voice as he shouted obscenities, chastising her daughter for being weak and pathetic

 

Vera anxiously picked at one of her nails, avoiding observing Joan as she painful attempted to reclaim control over her emotions.

 

“It won’t take long, you promised me...as arduous as it may feel,” Vera paused as if to collected her thoughts

 

“I  _did_ promise you, didn’t I...” murmured Joan as she shifted in the car seat, fingers poised to release the seatbelt, “No-one ever prepares you.”

 

Vera frowned then realised what Joan was referring to, she nodded her head in agreement, “No, I suppose no-one does, it’s one of those insignificant things in the grand scheme of everything...either they forget or the thought just never occurs to anyone to inform you.”

 

Joan gripped tightly on the leather steering wheel, her limbs trembled whilst she inhaled deeply, taking deep cleansing breaths in order to settle her jittery nerves and glanced over at Vera, “I’m ready...as I’ll ever be.”

 

* * *

 

 

The unforgiving wind howled as if Mother Nature shared in Joan’s heartbreaking anguish, while Vera stood, sheepishly off to the side but as a part of her wanted to console the grief stricken older woman, she resisted the temptation.

After all, she could not.

This was not her place to interfere but also the fact, Joan was an extremely private person nor would she appreciate the unnecessary pawing or pity at her, and despite someone as close as Vera, Joan was hesitant to display a scene of emotions, any emotional breakdown for that matter.

A trembling hand reached out, she _never_ reached out, instead Joan always maintained a healthy distance as if she were purely bound by duty for the annual visit and out of necessity in order to personally help relief her guilty conscience. One arm wrapped tightly around her abdomen, to shield or protect herself but in essence it was to comfort herself however the action, itself, felt foreign, empty.

It was her heart which ached, each heartbeat served as an agonising reminder of her perseverance, her unwavering strength and sheer determination, to never surrender as her father as previously taught her and not until the energy had diminished that would claim her last breathe on this worldly plane.

But, her last gasp of vital oxygen never came, Joan  _lived._

 

_‘Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.’_

Joan remembered reading the quote from somewhere but be damned if she could remember although she found it exceptionally fitting and true.

 

_She had never thought it would be humanly possible to be able to love again especially after Jianna, her Jianna who was so cruelly taken away from her and what made it even more traumatic was the fact that Joan had discovered her lifeless body hanging by a shredded bed-sheet as an improvised noose and then pushed off the first floor walkway._

_Then, she was promoted to the prestigious role of Governor; she admired the golden crest emblem upon her shoulders. Governor Ferguson had a certain ring to it. Her illustrious reputation preceded her and gained her respect and a legion of faithful followers who sat on that board who were impressed with her vast accomplishments in such a short space of time in comparison to her fellow colleagues as well as her no nonsense attitude towards any narcotics in her prison._

_When Joan first arrived at Wentworth, she found herself temporarily blindsided as a tiny, timid creature, offered her an uncertain and nervous smile before she stuttered and hesitated in introduced herself to Joan as the Deputy Governor then welcomed her to Wentworth._

Joan hurriedly wiped the offending tear that marked her pale face with disgust as the raw and almost unbearable emotions festered just below the surface causing her features to contort painfully as she resisted, pushing back the emotions, suppressing them back into their rightful place.

Hastily, she concealed the tear stained handkerchief, tucked up under her sleeve of her jacket then coughed to dislodge the cotton wool lump which had formed in her throat, dry and prevented Joan from speaking, not without making it obvious to Vera that she was truly upset.

 

The strength of wind died down to that of a gentle breeze which allowed Joan to push some rebellious from her face and adjusted the stray ends back into the immaculate, trademark bun.

She pulled back her hand from the black marble headstone then resumed her usual, authoritative stance with her hands clasped in front of herself. Her thumb massages the cold tips of her fingers which had been in contact with the smooth marble, as if trying to force heat back into her extremities.

Joan glanced at her wristwatch and gasped, time always eluded her when she visited but she had assumed that Vera would have cleared her throat and softly caressed her shoulder to indicate that it was time to leave but not this time which was a worry.

Her ever faithful, dependable and patient colleague, deputy and lover had given Joan all the time that was required for her to grief in private, never once did Vera interrupt or intrude during that sacred time. Joan sighed, her shoulders slumped heavily as she turned her back on the headstone only to realise that she was alone.

“Vera?” her voice betrayed her, a whispered escaped her dry parted lips as she looked around in panic

There was no answer.

Joan gradually turned around, both arms wrapped protectively around herself, salty tears began build, threatening to fall despite her best efforts to prevent this which irritated her eyes and caused them to sting. Joan bowed her head down, fighting to control the overwhelming emotions as her heart irregularly thump in the tight confines of her chest, she wanted nothing more than for this pain, this agony to stop, to cease but she was too much of a coward to end it herself.

When, Joan opened her eyes, she saw the shiny marble headstone in front of her. The sunlight caused it to glimmer, just like _her._

“Y-you promised me...you promised t-that you’d never h-hurt me,” She cringed at the sound of her voice as it cracked causing a cascade of emotions to escape from the confines of the iron cage, “Oh, Vera!” whispered Joan, as her knees threatened to collapsed from under her weight, “You...it was _you_ that p-promised...n-never to leave....me.”

 


End file.
